


Era Abelas Vir'mara Sulahn'nehn

by Kethrielle



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-20 11:30:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3648711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kethrielle/pseuds/Kethrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mythal's temple is destroyed, the Sentinals are without a charge.  Abelas begins a journey to find their new purpose.  He might find something more personal along the way.  Takes place in the months after Corypheus' defeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Sentinals watched, and waited.

When the Inquisitor and her companions went through the eluvian, destroying it, Corypheus had withdrawn from the temple and left the Arbor Wilds altogether.  With Corypheus’ troops gone, the Inquisition and their allies also left.

The Sentinals watched the orderly retreat of the Inquisition forces.  They were methodical and efficient, and they were quickly gone, leaving little trace of their passing.  The Sentinals approved of this, and turned their attention to the red templars.

This retreat was much less orderly.  With Samson dead, the command structure was nonexistent.  With Corypheus gone in a rage, the control was equally nonexistent.  Though the leaders among the former templars made an effort to hold their troops together, they had no way of controlling the abominations among them.  The troops fought among themselves, and the Sentinals added to the confusion, provoking the templars they judged to be the ones closest to losing control over themselves, and watching the ensuing chaos.  

More Sentinals had died in this fight than at any point since the sealing of the temple, and they harried Corypheus’ troops to the very edge of the Arbor Wilds in retaliation for those deaths.

Finally, all the surviving Sentinals returned to their temple and gathered in the great hall.  They were quickly arguing about what they should do now.  

Some felt that, with the well gone, their purpose was also gone.  These wanted to go out into the world, and see if any of the other temples had survived, if any of their elvhen lethallin still guarded other temples.  They felt that even the followers of others of the pantheon would be preferable to the shemlen who currently called themselves elves.  

Others among the Sentinals argued that although vir’abelasan was gone, the temple remained, along with much that was valuable and sacred.  This group urged as much reconstruction of the temple as was needed to make it defensible once more, then a return to their long vigil.  They believed that only Mythal could free them from their sacred trust, and that anything less than their proposed path was blasphemy.

Abelas watched and waited.

Eventually, everyone who had an opinion had spoken, and as a few of the more strong willed among them began repeating their favorite points, others began to notice that Abelas had not said a word.  As their leader, the choice would be his, and they finally managed to silence their neighbors until every face was turned to him.

Abelas stood on the high balcony overlooking the hall, his arms crossed over his chest and his head bowed to allow his hood to obscure his face.  He finally noticed the silence, and nodded an acknowledgement.

“Ir’isala dirtha vir’dar.  Dar’atisha, lethallin.  Dirtha souveri, Mythal solasan.  Shiral’arla, lethallin.”

Abelas bowed to them all, and in the silence, leaped from the balcony and strode out the temple.  

It was several moments before any of the Sentinals reacted.  Abelas was leaving?  With no other warning than this?  Finally, two of the hunters raced out of the hall, but Abelas was nowhere to be found.  The baffled Sentinals stood and stared at each other for several moments before those who were charged with maintaining the temple began the long process of repairing that which had been destroyed by Corypheus.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Abelas took a little used shortcut through the temple, and stopped in a quiet chamber near the entrance.  There, he bowed to a statue of Mythal and whispered a prayer before leaving the temple; for the first time, he had no idea when or if he would return, and this left him feeling giddy.

Abelas knew his duty, and always had.  He always had a plan, the better to fulfill that duty.  These two qualities had defined and contained his life through the uncountable years that he had protected vir’abelasan.  The years had followed a strict pattern; even the interruptions from the occasional intruder had followed a plan he had laid out for them.  It was the way he liked it.

He was fully aware that not all the Sentinals appreciated the security that could be found in unswerving attention to duty and unyielding plans.  It was not a surprise that they often stayed awake longer or woke earlier than he had ordered, and used the time to interact with each other.  Abelas didn’t care, so long as those interactions didn’t interfere with them performing their duties.

He had, occasionally, been invited to join them.  He always refused these invitations, and eventually they others stopped asking.  Abelas had no interest in fraternizing with the Sentinals under his command.  He trained them during their scheduled waking periods, led them during the unscheduled intrusions, and directed their studies when they were awake and he wasn’t.

Abelas preferred the simplicity of uthenera, but protecting the temple required maintaining the fitness of the Sentinals, and he did not shirk this responsibility.

Now though, events had removed his twin comforts; without vir’abelasan, his duty was unclear and not even his plans had included the recent events at the temple.  With no information he had no way to see the path ahead, and no way to plan for what might lay on it.  So he did the only thing he could think of, he left the temple and headed to Tarasyl’an Te’las.

The Inquisitor had shown respect for the temple, and for himself.  Surely, she would be able to tell him what was happening in the world.  She had not drunk of the well herself, but he felt she could be trusted.  

It was with this unusually thin plan that Abelas left his temple with nothing more than his personal gear and some of the coins taken from the fallen invaders, and turned his steps toward Skyhold.

  
  
  
  
*  ”I need knowledge of the path before us.  Be at peace, brothers.  I know you’re tired, but Mythal is proud of you.  May my journey bring me home to you.”  (Approximate translation)


	2. Chapter 2

Inquisitor Ashara Lavellan was beginning to suspect that she had made a tactical error.  This wasn't at all a common occurrence, although she knew everyone made mistakes eventually, but she had so many people to rely on for knowledge and advice, that her errors were gratifyingly rare.  In this instance, she hadn't asked anyone for advice before choosing her path, so she had no one to blame except herself.

During the long fight against Corypheus, she had been aware occasionally that her male companions were interested in her.  Blackwall, Iron Bull, Cullen, even Solas; at some point with each of them, her generally open and friendly demeanor had led to a slightly awkward conversation.  She hadn't meant for it to happen, but she hadn't adjusted to the social atmosphere as quickly as she had adjusted to the other changes in her world.

Before the Conclave, she’d been a hunter for Clan Lavellan.  She’d been popular enough, and competent enough, but she knew that the reason she was sent was because she was good enough to protect herself but ultimately expendable if the worst should happen.  It hadn't bothered her, and in fact she had enjoyed her unimportant position in the clan.  

She could befriend whomever she wished, hunt as she wished, and largely behave as she wished.  She had no one looking up to her as a shining example of the Dalish or the clan, and no more responsibility for their well being than anyone else.  She had been familiar and comfortable with everyone from the Keeper herself to the youngest hunter.  Her easy manners and ready smile made her a favorite with her age-mates.

This had all been fine in Haven, and Skyhold, at first, but slowly she realized that something was different.  The humans were far more restrained with each other than she was with them; it had taken a very uncomfortable conversation with Varric before she understood that they thought she was flirting with them.  Even Solas occasionally smiled at her with something more than approval in his gaze.  

She had tried, for a time, to change her behavior to match that of the humans around her, but it hadn't gone well.  Perhaps her mistake had been in trying to emulate Cassandra; the sharp tongued Seeker held herself aloof from their companions even while traveling and Ashara had thought that this would solve her problems.  

After needing to reassure everyone from her companions, to Commander Cullen, to Mother Giselle that nothing was wrong with her, she gave up on this approach.  With no better ideas on how to handle things, she returned to her usual behavior and simply ignored any overtures.

Fortunately, such overtures were subtle - or in Iron Bull’s case, so cheerfully direct that she had no qualms about turning him down with equal directness - and easily deflected.

The truth was, Ashara didn't think she should be involved with anyone.  A personal relationship with one of her companions might affect behavior in the field.  A personal relationship with someone who didn't accompany her in the field held other dangers.  Further, she knew she was risking her life daily, and didn't want to leave someone with a broken heart.  

It was good leadership and good friendship to avoid entanglements.

However, she was willing to consider that this may have been a tactical error.  Shortsighted.  

As she stood on her balcony, three months after Corypheus’ defeat, she realized she was lonely.  Thanks to her careful plan of avoidance and denial, any potential suitors had fallen away, and most had turned their interests elsewhere.  Which was great for them, but left her sighing alone on her balcony as the setting sun cast brilliant colors in the sky.

Annoyed with herself for moping, she turned and walked back into her room.  Picking up a letter from her desk, she made her way down the stairs and through the great hall.  She waved at Varric as she passed, then jogged down the stairs and across the courtyard toward the practice dummies.  

Cassandra was there, practicing, but she stopped at the Inquisitor approached.

“Hello, Cassandra.  How are the dummies holding up today?”

The Seeker snorted a laugh.  “Well enough for now.  I may have to take them with me when I go to Val Royeaux.  I am certain that the annoyances there will be far greater than the ones I find here.”

Ashara smiled apologetically.  “Speaking of Val Royeaux, I've had another letter from the Grand Clerics, asking when you’ll be joining them.”

“Ugh.  They only want me there because it will be easier for them to drop every minor problem in my lap.  And laugh up their embroidered sleeves at my fumbling.”

“Come now, Divine Victoria.  You know how to delegate those things, and I know you have the will and the vision you need.  When will you put them to work?”

Cassandra sighed heavily.  “Soon.  I have started, but I know my presence will be required soon enough.”

Before Ashara could respond, they heard raised voices at the front gate, and someone calling for Cullen.  Exchanging a look, Cassandra grabbed her shield from where it rested near the practice dummies, and then Seeker and Inquisitor headed for the gate.

They found a crowd gathered, and the soldiers who guarded the gate standing with their drawn weapons pointed at a hooded and cloaked figure.  The mysterious arrival stood as still as stone, his hood hid his face and the cloak hid the rest of him.  At least he wasn't waving a weapon around, but neither was he being particularly reassuring.  

Cullen descended the stairs and pushed through the crowd.  He caught the Inquisitor’s eye, and nodded in response to her subtle gesture that he proceed.  He stopped just out of the stranger’s reach, and spoke in a voice designed to carry.

“Welcome to Skyhold, traveler.  We do not often see people who brave these paths alone.  State your name; all those with good intentions are welcome here.”

The stranger stood still for a moment, then his chin rose and he shot a penetrating golden gaze at Cullen.  He gave a shrug, and the cloak fell back to reveal his gleaming armor and prove that he carried no weapon beyond the hunting bow and quiver on his back.

“I am Abelas.  I have come to speak with the Inquisitor.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Abelas._  

Her jaw dropped.  She had never expected to see him again, certainly not here.  

Their interaction at Mythal’s temple had been filled with tension that she could only partially understand.  The ending of so many years of service to one who had dedicated their life to that single task was not something she could truly comprehend.  Added to the confusion of repeated awakenings in a world that made less sense each time… she hadn't blamed him for being terse.

It had been a difficult decision to allow Morrigan to drink from the Well.  She didn't truly trust the apostate, but neither did she think that a non-mage had much chance at understanding or using the Well’s power.  So Morrigan had drunk, and lived with the consequences.

Now, Abelas was standing on her doorstep, and she had no idea what he wanted.  

Should they make this a formal occasion?  Have Abelas conducted into the Great Hall while she sat in state on her shemlen throne?  It would be both an acknowledgement of his importance and an affirmation of her own superior position to make him come before her in that way.

Or should it be a casual meeting?  She could greet him here, skip the ceremony that Josephine so loved, and treat him as an equal from the beginning.  It may not be as formal as he deserved - ancient guardian and keeper of lore, most likely a rather powerful mage - but she also wouldn't be shoving her own importance down his throat.

Cullen, may his Maker bless him, hadn't even glanced in her direction before launching into the standard stalling techniques.  Cassandra was watching her, however, and she knew she needed to make a decision.  

She glanced back at Abelas.  He stood, motionless as he listened to Cullen, his hood hiding his expression.  Though she couldn't see his face because of his hood, or much his body because of his cloak and armor, she suddenly had the impression that he was exhausted - both in mind and body.  She wasn't sure how she knew this, but she felt it was true, and from that point, the decision was a simple one.

She pushed through the crowd to come stand in the open space with them.  She gave Cullen a formal nod and a small smile.

“Thank you, Commander, for greeting our guest.  I appreciate the protocols involved, but as I happen to have this afternoon free, perhaps you’ll forgive me for skipping them?”

Cullen gave a short laugh.  “Certainly, Inquisitor.  You know where to find me if you have need of me.”  He turned and started back up the stairs to his office.  “Besides, you know it isn't my forgiveness you’ll need; it’s Josephine’s.  Good afternoon, Inquisitor, Ser Abelas.”

Ashara stuck her tongue out at the Commander’s retreating back for just a moment before turning to Abelas with a smile.

“I am pleased to see you again, Abelas.  Welcome to Skyhold.  Will you come inside with me?”

Abelas was watching her, and she wondered how she measured up to his first impression of her in the temple.  He nodded once, letting his cloak fall closed again before he fell into step with her as she started back towards the keep.

She caught a servant as they passed through the large doors, and asked for a meal to be sent to her quarters.  The order brought raised eyebrows from the servant, who nonetheless hurried off to do as he had been bid, and the ever-curious Varric who wandered into their path from his place by the fire.

“I didn't know we were expecting guests, Inquisitor, let alone a friend of yours.”  He eyed what little could be seen of Abelas with some suspicion.

Ashara sighed.  “Varric, you remember Abelas, don’t you?  From Mythal’s temple?”  

Varris was close enough now to peer up into Abelas’ hood.  “Ah, yes, the cranky one.  Well, one of them, anyway.  And what brings you to the Inquisitor’s bedroom - uh, I mean stronghold?”

“I have come to speak with the Inquisitor, durgen-len.”  Ashara suppressed a grin at Abelas’ bland tone.

When it became apparent that this was the only answer that would be forthcoming, Varric scowled, and would have launched into ever more invasive questions if Ashara hadn't stepped in.

“By the way, Varric, I would avoid Cassandra for awhile if I were you.  Someone may have told her that they got a peek at the latest draft of Swords and Shields, and that the Knight-Captain had turned out to be a villain in disguise.  She’s quite… annoyed… at the idea.  She said she was going to try to convince you to change it before leaving for Val Royeaux.  You know, before she officially accepts the mantle of the Divine and is no longer able to settle such grievances with her sword and her fists.”

While Varric spluttered in outrage, Ashara just grinned and hustled Abelas past him.  

They encountered no further delays on their way to her quarters.  Once there, she gestured Abelas toward the low sofa and went to tend the fire.

“You must be tired after your journey.  Please, be comfortable.  The food should be here soon, and surely whatever you've come to discuss can wait that long?”

She turned away from the fire to find Abelas standing in the middle of the room, surveying it.  He nodded his thanks, and removed his cloak before settling onto the sofa.  Ashara rolled her eyes when he left his hood on, and up, but let it pass.  How comfortable could he be in all that armor anyway?

“Thank you, Inquisitor.  I regret that your welcome in my home was less polite than the welcome you have offered me in yours.”

She took a second to parse this sentence, and decided it was as close to an apology as she was likely to get.

“Well, since you didn’t arrive on the heels of an invading force led by a creepy ancient magister, I think we can call it even, yes?”

This actually earned her a reserved smile.  Despite the hood, she could see that even this small smile lightened his eyes, making them warmer, less piercing.   _Oh_.  It would certainly be worth the effort to get him to smile more often.

Just then, the servant arrived with their meal, and in the flurry of activity, he returned to his usual stoic expression.  

It would probably take quite a bit of effort, she realized, to get him to smile again.  

It was a good thing she had some free time these days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an FYI, I’ll be out of town for the weekend, next update to come on Tuesday. Thank you to everyone for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Abelas looked out at the sky through the windows in the Inquisitor’s - Ashara, she had insisted that he call her by her given name - quarters, as he reached for his glass and took a drink.  He was surprised to find that night had fallen and the moon stood high in the sky above the snow capped peaks.  They had been here for several hours already, if night had progressed so far.

She was incredibly easy to talk to, and he had found himself sharing far more than he had planned.  Before and during their meal, he had told her a bit about his journey to Skyhold and what he thought about the world he had walked through for the first time in centuries.

After they had finished with the lunch she had provided, he got down to business and told her his reason for coming.  She hadn't seemed too surprised, and had promised to consider his question of what the Sentinals should do now.  She had asked him a few probing questions about the opinions of the others, and then listened silently as he told her.

He had talked without interruption for hours, telling her about the Sentinals and their lives in Mythal’s temple.  He told her of uthenera, and how those charged with maintaining the temple woke the warriors and mages when a threat appeared.  He told her about the schedules of training and learning that he had created for the others, so they all slept, woke, worked, learned, and slept again.  He told her, sounding rather offended even to his own ears, about how the others would delay their return to sleep for various personal activities.

Abelas even found himself telling her of his own feelings - the faint twinge of loneliness when he returned to uthenera knowing the others stayed awake to visit among themselves; the pain of losing brothers he’d known for centuries when Corypheus attacked the temple.

He had never spoken to the other Sentinals as he found himself speaking to Ashara, and he had finally fallen silent to gaze out the window at the bright moon shining and the snow and marvel at this.  She was an excellent listener, and to his surprise he found he was comfortable with her.  

Abelas was fairly sure he shouldn't be this comfortable with anyone, let alone the shemlen elf leader of a human army that had come to destroy his peace, his sanctuary, and his charge all in one fell swoop.  

Unbidden, a thought forced itself to the front of his mind.   _Asha irlath uth.*_  Abelas shook his head sharply to clear it.  No.  If he ever found his asha irlath uth, it would not be here.  It only made sense that he would find her among the Sentinals.  

He knew that, in the time before Mythal’s temple was sealed and the Sentinals sealed away with it, that the People had formed deep and permanent attachments.  The bond was formed quickly and without conscious intent; the courtship that followed was slow in order to teach the bonded pair how appreciate and care for each other - the elvhen had always known that lasting relationships took work and required more than love alone.  

He had never experienced that bond, and had never expected to.  His life had been given to Mythal; his entire being was devoted to her - to protecting his temple and vir’abelasan.  There was no room for anything or anyone else.  The Sentinals had always been kept separate in part to avoid such entanglements.

He turned his attention back to Ashara, to find her eyes steady on him and a smile on her lips.  

“Hungry again?  I’m afraid we missed dinner with everyone, but I’m sure we could raid the kitchen.”  

He was appalled by how willing he was to agree with this, how pleased he was that she wanted to spend more time with only him.  Despite these unreasonable feelings, Abelas pushed himself to his feet, and gave her a short formal bow.

“I thank you for your hospitality, but my journey was long.  I find I am more interested in rest than food.  I hope you will excuse me.”

Ashara looked surprised, but nodded willingly enough.

“Of course, Abelas, I apologize for keeping you so long.  I’ll let you get some rest, and perhaps we can speak further tomorrow about the temple?  I do have some suggestions for you.”

He nodded, and offered a stilted agreement to her plan.  He left her quarters and headed for the room the servant had described to him as quickly as he could manage at a dignified pace.  He would have to be more careful in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Asha irlath uth = literally "woman I love forever." I couldn't resist the idea that the ancient elves formed lifemate bonds. Or all the potential tangles and angst that goes with that idea. ;-)


	5. Chapter 5

Abelas spent the night meditating, attempting to settle his thoughts and emotions.  He forced his thoughts - in a way that had never been necessary before - to Mythal, and his duty.  He had always considered halam’shivanas to be a privilege.  He was determined to consign his barely formed feelings for Ashara to that same category: sacrificed for duty.  

By the time dawn light started seeping through the shutters on the single window his room offered, he finally felt centered.  Standing, he breathed a sigh of relief; he would speak with Ashara about her suggestions for the temple, then he would leave.  Whatever course they chose, he would soon return to uthenera and by the time he woke again - if ever - the problem would have resolved itself.  Abelas threw his cloak over his shoulders, and left the room.

He had planned to find a servant, and ask them to locate the Inquisitor for him, but it turned out not to be necessary; there was a swirl of activity in the courtyard and Ashara stood in the middle of it.  Curious, he stepped into the shadows and made his way silently toward her.  None noticed him, and he was able to watch without interruption.

“I’m surprised we managed to miss one so close to home; are we sure it isn't a new one?”  She was speaking to Commander Cullen and someone dressed in scout armor.  The scout answered.

“We can’t really be sure either way, Your Worship.  It’s an isolated spot, and none of us has been through there in quite some time; certainly not since you defeated Corypheus.”

Cullen added, “Perhaps you’ll be able to to tell when you get there, Inquisitor.  Either way, I would suggest more comprehensive patrols.  If it’s something we missed, we need to be sure there aren't others; if it’s a new one we need information even more urgently.”

Ashara sighed.  “I know.  I’m dreading the possibility of a new one; I understand that the breach weakened the veil, and perhaps all those weak spots weren't fixed when we sealed the breach, but still… it would have needed something more than just being weak to create a new rift.”  

She turned to a soldier who stood nearby, holding a map.  Taking it from him, she scanned it, and made some marks, using the stylus to measure distances.  “We don’t have enough troops to patrol the entire area.  Aren't many of the soldiers returning to their homes?”  At Cullen’s nod, she continued, “Let’s have them take paths that lead through some of these less visited areas, that will be a start.  Then, we’ll have Josie and Leliana set something going with our allies, to keep the areas patrolled.  The returning soldiers can train their fellows on what to look for.  Get started on the planning, but don’t issue any orders until I’ve returned - if I can tell that it is a left over, we won’t need to proceed.  If I can tell that it’s new, or if I can’t determine either way, we’ll set our plans in motion.  Alright?”

She got a nod and sketchy salute from Cullen, gave him a wry smile in return, and turned toward the waiting horses and her companions.

Abelas was fascinated.  At the temple, he had seen only that she was there to take that which he had guarded for centuries; he had been focused on that and on her deficiencies - she clearly wasn't elvhen as he was used to, and though the Sentinals had all seen the changes in the People during their periods of wakefulness, it was the first time they had interacted with one of those calling themselves Dalish; the disappointment at what they had become was overwhelming.

Even last night, while he had enjoyed her company, he had been aware that she did not compare favorably to his memories of the People.

Now though, he was seeing something else entirely.  She was respected here, and he knew enough of the world to know that elves were rarely respected by the humans that had risen to power throughout Thedas.  She was clever, and wore her responsibilities well.  Suddenly, he wondered how much they might have in common.  

Would she understand the burden that he bore, leading the Sentinals?  Would she share his feeling of self-imposed loneliness?  Could she be the equal that he might speak freely with?  He couldn't tell the other Sentinals about his doubts or fears, they depended on him to lead them, to stay strong in order to hold them together through the long centuries of their task.  Ashara, though, was not under his command, and required nothing of him except perhaps friendship.

For a moment, he allowed his imagination to follow this path, imagining that they might exchange letters for a time when he returned to his duties, that perhaps she might even join him when her responsibilities here were ended; she had already mentioned that she was interested in the history of their people, where better to learn of it than with the Sentinals?

He was imagining her walking through the gates of Mythal’s gloriously repaired temple, his own excitement at her arrival; he could see himself smiling and welcoming her, _“Andaran atish’an, asha irlath uth.”_  Abelas shook his head sharply.  No.  That was not possible for him.  Better that he not set foot on this path, if that was where it would lead.

Suddenly, he became aware that he was being watched.  He looked up, saw Ashara looking at him, and the other people who were standing around her slowly turning and searching the shadows to see what the Inquisitor was looking at.  Since he’d been seen, Abelas stepped out of the shadows, and walked over to her, giving a short bow when he reached her.

Ashara grinned at him.  “Want to have some fun?”

“What sort of fun?”  His cautious tone had her grinning.

“Smart man.  Don’t ever assume your idea of fun and hers will match up.”  A tall, dark haired man had spoken.  He wore a smirk and some sort of clothing with a lot of shiny buckles on it.  Abelas looked at him enquiringly, even as Ashara rolled her eyes.

“We have to go close a rift, and of course deal with the demons that come out of it.  I had been planning on bringing Dorian, but he seems inclined to complain about it.  Something about ‘snow is cold, demons are nasty’ or some other such nonsense.”  She was smiling as she said it, and since the human mage didn't seem offended, Abelas simply nodded his understanding.  “I’m short a mage these days, and honestly, I prefer not to disturb Vivienne.  If you’re willing to come with us, you’d be most welcome.”

Abelas considered it.  He was experienced enough to know that he would be helpful, and she didn't seem too concerned about the potential danger in the situation, so he assumed it was something she knew they could handle with an unfamiliar member on the team.  

He also knew he would like to see her in action, see how she led and how she fought.  He shouldn't be interested in those things, but he could almost convince himself that his interest was purely professional, so he nodded.

“Of course, Inquisitor.  I would be pleased to assist you.”  He gave her another short bow, ignoring the quirk of her eyebrows at the gesture; he was determined to keep this relationship on a more formal path.

“Thank you, Abelas.”  She turned back to the dark haired mage.  “It’s your lucky day, Dorian, you’re off the hook.  Perhaps you’ll allow Abelas to use your horse, and give him your supply pack so we don’t waste anymore time?”  

Dorian handed over these items willingly, and they all mounted.  Abelas mounted smoothly enough, though he wasn't pleased about it; he hadn't ridden often or very enthusiastically.  Ashara cast him a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry, it isn't too far.”  

Abelas nodded, and followed her out into the snow.


	6. Chapter 6

Abelas had been in combat many times over his years as a Sentinal in Mythal’s temple.  He had received extensive training before being accepted as a Sentinal, and had continued to train himself and oversee the training of the other Sentinals throughout the long years of their duty.

The Sentinals trained mages and fighters in any discipline.  They followed the training methods that had been popular in Arlathan when they were learning, methods which had been the result of several centuries of study and application.  

The years of training in the closed environment of Mythal’s temple had made for very rigid observance of the forms and a rather intolerant view of variations.  In a way this was good, the Sentinals were all masters of their chosen form, and some of them had chosen to learn a second form as well.  They were all familiar with the skills and abilities of their fellows and knew without question which attacks and defenses would be used in any given situation.  This gave them an almost psychic ability to time and place their attacks where they would have the most benefit, almost without thinking about it.

Although each Sentinal was permitted to choose their discipline, all were trained in stealth and expected to use it.  While it was an obvious skill for rogues, Abelas had always insisted that the mages and even warriors learned it.  When the Sentinals fought, their warriors often struck from the shadows, surprising enemies who had expected only rogues with sudden strong attacks.  Their mages too, put a fair bit of effort into remaining unseen on the battlefield, which had the additional benefit of not needing to waste the warriors’ time with protecting them.

Over the years, they had faced mostly treasure hunters and those exploring the Arbor Wilds and the temple for adventure and profit.  Few of these knew about Vir’abelesan, and were mainly interested in more portable goods.  They were easy to fight off, and rarely required the waking of more than a handful of Sentinals.

Occasionally, though, a more organized party came.  These were usually hired by scholars - almost always mages or with a mage funding their word - and came with the primary goal of stealing the Well.  They were more challenging, but still nothing like a serious threat.

Abelas insisted on proper forms and techniques, even in the most inconsequential of battles, however, and he always led the defenses himself.  By the time he journeyed to Skyhold, he was well experienced in all sorts of battles.

Or so he had thought, until he followed Ashara into battle.  Her fighting technique was terrifying - she snuck through the battlefield instead of around it, frequently stabbing one opponent in the back as the Seeker held it’s attention, only to disappear immediately and reappear behind a different enemy, stabbing this one in the back while it faced the giant qunari before disappearing again.

For the first time, he was involved in a battle where most of the noise was coming from the fighters on his own side.  The Iron Bull roared as he charged, yelled to make their enemies focus on him, or simply yelled for the joy of killing.  Even Cassandra shouted frequently while finishing off an opponent.  The Sentinals battled silently, and Abelas often found himself wincing as he cast his spells at all the noise on this battlefield.  Ashara didn’t seem bothered by it, however, so he assumed it was normal for these fighters.

The biggest difference though, was how he felt when their last enemy fell.  Fighting with the Sentinals, he was always focused - focused on his fellows, both their safety and what additional training they may need; focused on their enemy; focused on his own spells, forms, and mana levels.  Their battles were quiet and precise, at the end, he felt only a quiet sense of accomplishment before focusing on the next task.

Fighting with Ashara, he felt so much more.  He didn’t have time to focus on anything except the fight, and that came through only in flashes.  He had to cast and respond much more quickly, trying to anticipate where his spells were needed while also making sure he wasn’t about to be the subject of a melee attack left little time for careful planning and execution of his spells; he fought instinctively and felt a fierce pleasure when his spells connected and brought down an enemy or immobilized them for one of the others.  He may even have shouted a “return to the abyss!” when a particularly nasty rage demon finally fell.

When the battle ended, he found himself brimming with energy, his barrier still snapping lightly against his skin, riding an adrenaline high that had him shaking his hood back off his head and wearing a fierce smile as he surveyed the battlefield.  After a moment, a surge of magic drew his attention, and he was treated to the sight of Ashara closing the rift.  The power of it, so familiar to one who dwelled in Mythal’s home, sent an extra tingle of magic down his spine.

When Ashara turned toward him, her eyes widened at the sight of him standing bare-headed and smiling, with so much magic surging through him that she could almost see it.  Her own eyes reflected the excitement he felt, and in that moment he knew that Dorian had been wrong: his ideas of fun did match up with hers, though he never would have guessed it.  

He had never enjoyed a battle before, beyond taking a modest measure of pleasure in his skill and the unity of the Sentinals he fought beside.  This was something else altogether.  This was glorious.

He had taken one step toward her, when Iron Bull and Cassandra wandered between them as they looted the remaining corpses.  The interruption was enough to remind him of his chosen course.  He reached back and lifted his hood into place, breaking eye contact with Ashara.  Then, with his expression safely concealed once more, he looked back to where she had been standing, only to find her gone.  An instant later, her hand landed on his shoulder and she stepped around him, tipping her head to one side to peer into his hood.

“Abelas?  Is everything alright?”  Her voice washed over him, wearing away his determination; her hand on his shoulder seemed to burn, even through his armour and her gloves.  

He nodded, twisting away from her, and turning the motion into a polite half-bow.

“I am well.  I am unfamiliar with a battle such as this, and I find it unsettling.  I will no doubt be fine after I have meditated.”

Ashara didn’t look convinced, but she nodded anyway.

“Of course.  We’ll be setting up camp here, and waiting for Leliana’s crow to arrive; if there are any other unknown rifts in the area, I’d like to deal with them now, rather than making the journey back to Skyhold and then out again.  You’ll have plenty of time for meditation.”

Abelas nodded his thanks, since he didn’t trust his voice, and turned to follow after Iron Bull as the qunari shouted that he’d found a perfect camping spot.


	7. Chapter 7

They made camp, gathered what they needed, and ate.  The evening passed like many others during their long fight; Bull told stories about some of the Chargers’ battles, each less likely than the one before it.  Cassandra tried to apply logic to these tales until finally she gave up and settled for snorting in disbelief.  Ashara listened and smiled, laughing at the right times, and allowing herself to relax after the stress of the day.  

Much to her surprise, Abelas sat with them and seemed to be listening as well, though he said nothing.

Eventually, Bull stood up and dropped more wood on the fire before heading for his tent with nothing more than a friendly wave.  Cassandra bid them a good night and retired to her tent shortly after, leaving Ashara and Abelas alone before the fire.  Abelas stared into the flames, seeming unaware of their surroundings, so Ashara took the opportunity to study him.

The shifting shadows of the fire made it more difficult than usual to see his face within his hood, but neither the shadows nor the peculiar armor the Sentinals wore did anything to obscure her view of the rest of him.

Like all the Sentinals, he was larger than the elves she was used to.  Taller, broader, with more muscles than would even be possible for her lethallin.  He was well muscled in general, which was unusual in a mage, as was his ability to move stealthily on the battlefield.  Despite her attention to the fighting, she had also observed him during the battle, and been impressed with what she saw.

More than just his physical appearance had caught her attention, though.  Abelas held himself carefully, every movement was precise and controlled; when he spoke, his voice and words carried the same discipline.  His body language spoke of someone who did not allow themselves unnecessary motions, and it followed that his emotions were kept under a similar strict control.  He stood as if a great weight rested on his shoulders, which she imagined it did.  

He had moved differently, spoken differently, the day before when they were alone in her quarters.  At the time, she hadn’t thought much about it, but with his return to rigid formality ever since, she was curious.  She had seen that same freedom after the battle, when he grinned at her so openly.  With his hood down she’d had her first unrestricted view of his face; the energy and excitement in his expression had drawn an answering smile from her, even across the battlefield.  Here was someone she wanted to know better, someone who woke feelings in her that she hadn't felt before.

Suddenly, he looked across the fire at her.

“You said you had an answer for me, but we did not have time to speak of it on the journey to this place.  Will you tell me now?”

Ashara smiled brightly.  “Of course.  You are correct that much has changed while you and the others guarded the temple, and that those changes should be taken into consideration now.  I believe that those of your order who wish to preserve the remaining artifacts in the temple are correct - much of what you possess is unknown to us now.  I would like to offer the Inquisition’s resources for rebuilding the temple.  Skyhold needed extensive repairs when we first arrived, and we worked with many talented stone masons.  Then, I think you should spread word of your existence to the Dalish, and allow them to come to you for instruction.  We - the Dalish - value learning of our ancestors above all other pursuits.  You could greatly assist us, and in return we could help protect the temple.”

Abelas shook his head sharply at this.  “I will happily preserve the remaining artifacts of the temple, but we are not familiar with outsiders.  I will not have unknown shemlen invading our sanctuary.  Not even those who may be distantly related to us.”

Ashara bit her lip on her immediate response, and took several deep breaths before replying.  “You told me yourself that your numbers dwindle with each invasion.  You came to Skyhold to find out how to exist in the world as it is now.  This is how.”

“It is not necessary.  We can repair the temple ourselves, and seal off whichever parts cannot be repaired.  You must understand; we were always meant to be apart and that has not changed.  Few of us even speak a common tongue.  We live and breathe for a single purpose.  I will not alter that.”

“But surely it wasn't meant to be that way?  Was Mythal’s temple meant to never be visited by the faithful?  I cannot believe that.  I know that events made it necessary to seal with temple, but surely it was not intended originally?”

Abelas scowled into the fire, the expression clear by the way his vallaslin shifted across his forehead.

“No, it was not always so.  We used to welcome pilgrims and the faithful.  The Sentinals simply guarded the vir’abelasan and ensured the safety of all who came within our gates.  But that is long ago; we have Sentinals who have never known Arlathan, who have never set foot outside our gates.”

“When we met, you told me that the world was more unfamiliar each time you woke.  You said that this was meaningless, that you endured.  I won’t question the choices you made, or the necessity of those choices.  But it is the responsibility of a leader to adapt, not to simply endure.  

“You must know that you cannot silence all those who know of the temple; more people will come.  You cannot continue as you have done, and expect to succeed.  Further, this way is a compromise between the opposing groups.  It protects the artifacts and the temple, it allows you to find if there are other guardians left at other temples.  It keeps all safe while these goals are accomplished; safer than you would be letting a bunch of Sentinals who have never left their temple wander Thedas.”

Abelas didn't answer, simply staring into the fire with the pinched look she remembered from when they stood beside the vir’abelasan.  When he remained silent for several minutes, Ashara stood and walked around the fire.  

He didn't notice her movement, so he didn't have time to pull away before she was kneeling next to him; she set a hand on his knee and tilted her head just enough to look up into his hood and hold his eyes.

“Abelas.  There is more to your duty than what has been lost.  You do not need to ignore the present and future to preserve the past.”

His eyes widened, he opened his mouth to speak but no words came.

“You do not need to mourn forever for what was lost.  You do not need to sacrifice your self to your duty; it is possible to honor both.”

He finally wrenched his eyes away from hers, turning his head away to compose himself.  When he spoke, his voice was harsh, but tightly controlled.

“You cannot know that.  What do you know of Mythal?  The twisted half truths taught by your Dalish?  Did you not think that Mythal had been trapped with the others by Fen’Harel?  You cannot know what is necessary to my duty or my honor.”

Ashara laughed, which at least enticed him to look at her again.  “You’re asking me this?”  She held up her left hand.  “Marked by the power of a god, remember?  You want to talk about duty?  How about being in charge of the survival of the whole world?  Directly responsible for thousands of lives?  Being hailed as a herald of a god you don’t believe in?  Being the only elf that has any sort of voice in the shaping of the world?  Don’t worry, I know a thing or two about honor and duty.”

She sighed, and patted his knee lightly before standing.  “And although this is not the time, I have learned something of Mythal as well since leaving the temple.  We will need to speak of it, but perhaps it would be better to wait until we’re both more rested.”

When she reached her tent she looked back.  Abelas was still sitting where she had left him, staring into the flames.  He had pulled one of his armored gloves off, and his bare hand rested on his knee where her hand had been.  

Ashara ducked into her tent settled down for sleep, wondering how he would react when she finally told him about meeting Asha Bellanar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Unrelated Author Note: Soo.... am I the only one wondering about Abelas' and Morrigan's eyes being exactly the same? And whether this has anything to do with the Mythal/Flemeth connection? Yes? Ok... clearly I've watched the Well of Sorrows clips too much, trying to soak up all the Abelas goodness. ;-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard! The train to Emotionville is now departing, with additional stops at Angst Town and Gosh This Was Long Central.

It was just past midnight, and Inquisitor Lavellan was sitting at her desk, working through the correspondence and requests that had been left during her absence.  It wasn’t that much, honestly, and she could have been done with it and asleep by now, if only she hadn’t spent much of the afternoon and evening fretting about Abelas.

He hadn’t said more than two words to her the entire way back to Skyhold, and when they arrived he had merely bowed and thanked her for including him before walking away.  He hadn’t come to dinner in the great hall, and she hadn’t quite mustered up the courage to go to his room to look for him.

Instead, she had sat around her quarters, pretending to address her paperwork while thinking about him.

Every thought started with a memory of how he had looked after the battle at the rift; his hood finally thrown back, the sunlight glinting on his green vallaslin, his golden eyes alight with pleasure, and a smile on his lips.  

She spent a lot of time thinking about his precise way of speaking, wondering what it would be like to hear him use that controlled voice to speak of something he was passionate about; wondering what it would take to make him lose that control.

She never got far in her thoughts about him without finding an excuse to remind herself that he wasn’t one of her people; he wasn’t her advisor or one of her companions, he wasn’t an Inquisition soldier or a noble to be impressed.  Unique in all the people she knew, he didn’t depend on her decisions, wasn’t subject to her orders.  

Inevitably, her thoughts always ran aground on two major points.  The first: that he was elvhen, and therefore immortal.  If he felt the need to find a - as he put it - personal relationship, surely he would choose from among the Sentinals, who were also immortal.  The second: that he quite clearly had little use for the Dalish.  He had called them “shadows wearing vallaslin,” and denied any relation between himself and them.  She couldn’t help but wonder what he thought of her, with her Dalish roots and Dalish ways; with the simple geometric lines of June’s vallaslin framing her face.  

She was almost positive that it wasn’t complimentary, and why should it be?  What he said of the Dalish was true; even if the diminishing of the elves hadn’t been their doing or anything they could have stopped, what did they know of dedication and service compared to the Sentinals?

Her thoughts took a darker turn then, remembering their conversation by the campfire.  He had looked so lost, reminding her of his expression as he made the choice to let them have the vir’abelasan.  Lost.  Without plan or purpose, and she could only suppose that his purpose was what had sustained him through the years of sleep and service.  She had hoped to help him see a new way forward, but he wasn’t willing to look at anything except the path he was already on.  It made her wonder why he had bothered to come to Skyhold at all, instead of simply making the decision he clearly wanted to make.

Ashara sighed, and picked up the letter she was supposed to be replying to.  These thoughts would not help matters, and would simply guarantee that she never completed these things, which would annoy Josephine.  She managed to finish the letter and picked up her pen to begin her reply, when the door to her quarters opened, and nearly silent footsteps came up the stairs.

She looked up, and dropped the pen in surprise when she saw that Abelas stood at the top of the stairs.  Someone had found him a change of clothes, the plain brown breeches fit him well enough, but the white shirt was too large; he had rolled the sleeves up to his elbows to keep them out of his way and left the too long hem of the shirt loose.  He had, not surprisingly, removed the hood from his armor and wore it with the plain clothes.  Ashara managed not to roll her eyes, but simply raised her eyebrows at him.

Abelas scowled at her before he walked across the room, and started pacing in front of her desk.

“I could not sleep.”

He stated this as if it were not only an explanation for coming to her room uninvited in the middle of the night, but as if he blamed her for his inability to sleep.  Ashara tipped her head to the side and gestured for him to continue.

He took another few turns across the room before he spoke again.

“You said I didn’t need to ignore the present in order to preserve the past.  I do not agree.  How can I teach the Sentinals who have never known Mythal - personally known her, not just worshipped her - how can I teach them to continue on as we have if I do not keep the past alive?  Eventually, the Sentinals who knew Mythal will be no more, they will either be killed protecting the temple or they will simply choose not to awaken from uthenera.  How then will those who simply worship find the courage to continue our duty?  

“No.  I must keep the past alive, give them a way to feel as we do so they will choose as we do.”

He fell silent, but Ashara didn’t rush to speak.  She could tell that he had been going in circles about this for some time - possibly since the night before - and knew he wouldn’t hear her if she spoke now.  She was amused to notice though, that despite his obvious agitation, he still maintained his control.  His voice was as smooth and precise as ever; even his pacing didn’t have the rushed urgency to it that she usually saw.  He took measured steps, always the same length, so that they carried him precisely the same distance on each turn.  He turned in exactly the same place each time.  Even more amusing was that he must do this often, since his track was slightly longer than her desk and a good bit shorter than the room would have afforded - clearly he moved out of a habit that had been ingrained in a different sized space than this.

She had also noticed that the breeches he wore didn’t fit quite as well as she had first thought - they were rather snug in the backside, providing her with a very effective distraction as he paced.

“It is… very important that I teach those younger Sentinals everything I can.  More important than ever now.  I had always expected that I would end my life at the vir’abelasan.  It is a duty and an honor to be allowed to do so; it is some assurance that all these years of service would not be… unknown.  I can pass knowledge on readily enough, but how do I pass on the feeling of how important this is?  As far as we know, we are the last bastion of our civilization, I would not have that lost.  The others… the ones who want to seek out other temples… they would eventually decide to enter uthenera, or to throw their lot in with your Dalish.  They would forget who and what we were, just as you have done.  I cannot allow that to happen.”

He was getting closer to the problem that had brought him to her quarters; his rant was becoming less controlled, his words tripping over each other as his mind worked faster than he could speak.  Ashara rested her elbow on the desk and her chin in her hand, and waited.

“You said that even good decisions needed to be reevaluated sometimes.  Even if you are correct - and I suspect that you are - this is not something I can do.  You must understand, I was there.  I served Mythal when she walked among us, and I saw her after she had been murdered.  I saw the elvhen warring amongst each other, and I saw the fall of Arlathan.  I set this course because it was the only - the only - option.  I must hold to it.  If change is to come, it cannot be in my lifetime.  It isn’t possible.”

Ashara stood slowly as he spoke, walking quietly around to lean on the front of her desk.  She had a feeling that she would need to interrupt him soon.  He’d managed to spin out to this point faster than she had thought he would, but she had a fairly good idea of where he was headed with this and wasn’t about to let him get there without trying to stop him.

He barely seemed to notice her movement, barely seemed aware of her at all as his voice dropped.  He took several steps, spun, and started back along his path in silence before he spoke again.  He spoke tentatively, as if speaking the idea aloud for the first time.

“Perhaps that is the answer.  Let one of the others take over.  The Well is gone, but uthenera is always an option.  Others have made the choice before, when the disconnect between what they knew and what was got to be too much.  Simply go to sleep, and remain in the Fade… not answer the call…”

Ashara straightened abruptly, waited until he had passed her, and then stepped into his path.  He turned at the end of his circuit, took two steps, and almost plowed right into her, so little did he expect the move.  He managed to catch himself before he even brushed against her, and his eyes met hers for the first time since he had started on this rant.  

She reached up and set her hands on his shoulders; not a light touch, she pressed down firmly as if that touch could be his anchor, could help him find his footing again.  He was breathing hard, as if he’d been doing far more strenuous exercise than merely pacing a straight line in her quarters.  His eyes were wide as he searched her face with a questioning frown.

She didn’t want to give him a chance to think too much about the fact that she was touching him - he had pulled away from her touch before, so she didn’t let the silence stretch before speaking.

“Abelas, you can do this.  You were chosen to lead the Sentinals because of your faith, because of your devotion, weren’t you?  I doubt you were chosen because you were too stubborn to change.  You have led them this far, you’ve kept them together, kept them hopeful.  

“I know how difficult that can be when the world is falling apart around you.  In a way we’ve been lucky, things happened so fast that our people didn’t have much chance to think they could do it better.  

“Your Sentinals have had more than enough time to reconsider the choices you’ve made.  They don’t just believe in Mythal.  Abelas, they believe in _you_.”

Ashara reached up, and gathered the edges of his hood in her hands; he started to object, but fell silent when she didn’t push the hood back off his head.  Instead, she stepped closer; so close that they would have touched if either drew a deep breath.  Then she rose up on her toes, the added height brought their faces together until their noses almost brushed.  As Abelas stood frozen, his arms held stiffly at his sides, she pulled his hood forward until it sheltered both of them.

In the dim confines of the hood, his golden eyes seemed to glow.  They were fixed on her own eyes, and she held his gaze steadily as she spoke, her voice hardly above a whisper.

“They trust you, Abelas.  They’ll follow you in a way that they won’t follow anyone else.   _You_ hold them together, and only you can lead them forward.  Your duty here is not finished.  You can do this, Abelas.  I’ll help if you let me, but I know that you _can_ do this.”

He watched her in silence for another moment, and she wondered if she’d said the right thing.  Too much?  Too little?  Finally, he brought his hands up to rest on her waist, and leaned down to rest his forehead against hers.  

He sighed, and the sound was loud in the confined space she had created.  His eyes were closed when he answered.

“Alright.  If that is what you truly believe…  Alright.  I’ll do it.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

Abelas woke with the late morning sunlight shining directly on his face.  He looked around Ashara’s room, and tried to remember how he had come to be here, asleep on her sofa in the late morning.

With her legs stretched across his, he realized when he tried to straighten.  Ashara was laying across the sofa, her legs draped over his as he sat comfortably surrounded by pillows in the corner.

He remembered coming here last night, feeling defensive and lost, wanting to argue with her about her advice.  He had come in without knocking, even knowing how late it was, hoping to provoke her.  

She hadn’t indulged him in an argument, though.  She’d simply listened as he spoke, and as he spoke he found himself falling further and further away from himself.  None of the thoughts were new, he’d been going around in circles ever since she entered her tent the night before.  

Somehow, though, speaking his thoughts aloud - a luxury he’d never had before - had made it harder to keep the feelings attached to those thoughts suppressed.  He quickly felt as if he were floundering in a storm tossed sea, with no land in sight.  

It had seemed like the most reasonable thing in the world to simply give up, let this burden pass to another, and drift endlessly in uthenera.  The idea was tempting, and though he hadn’t been able to sleep before, now he found sleep to be a haunting siren song calling his name.  To sink into the Fade, devoid of responsibility or the weight of his decisions… before he got further along that line of thought, he nearly stumbled into Ashara, who was suddenly standing directly in his path.

Her words had shattered his train of thought, silenced the siren song of uthenera.  Suddenly, he had no choice but to focus on her words; and her words held hope and a confidence in him that he was sorely lacking.

He knew of no one who would have spoken to him that way; her voice was so full of conviction, her words holding both confidence and a gentle reprimand, reminding him of his calling.  

How long had it been since he thought of this life as a “calling” instead of just a “duty?”

He had thought, for a moment, that she would remove his hood, tell him to stop hiding from his responsibilities, and he started a movement that would stop her; he knew he would have left, and for a single moment he regretted that their interactions would come to such an insulting end.  

She did nothing of the sort, however.  Instead, she drew close and let the hood cover them both.  It was like a punch to the gut, the feelings that washed over him in that moment.  That she accepted him, and encouraged him; that she didn’t even suggest that he had to be anything but what he was; that she offered her help, and joined him where he was comfortable... It meant everything to him.

He was no longer content to consign his entire life to halam’shivanas, he wanted this one thing for himself.

She may not know the words for it, but she truly was his asha irlath uth.  He needed to stop fighting it, and begin fighting to keep her at his side.  Well, she may not know the traditions, but she must feel something of the bond.  Now, he had to begin the courtship, and convince her of his sincerity.

Slowly and carefully, so he didn’t wake her, Abelas slid out from beneath Ashara’s legs, and quietly left the room.  He had much to do to prepare, if he was to begin the courtship today.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

When Ashara woke, she wondered first why she was sleeping on her sofa.  It took several minutes before she woke up enough to wonder why she was sleeping on her sofa alone.

She’d been worried about Abelas, even after he agreed to guide the Sentinals into a less reclusive role in the world.  She didn’t completely understand what was going through his mind, but she was familiar enough with the sense of inevitability that accompanied an impossible seeming task, and the lure of simply giving up.  She had woken in this same room more than once during the fight against Corypheus, with the thought that everyone would be better off if she simply stayed in her bed, and never ventured out again.

On those days, only the knowledge that she alone could close rifts had dragged her from the bed and out to work.  On those days, she had been distantly grateful that there were so many rifts, because otherwise she may well have given up.

With this partial understanding of what Abelas was going through, she had done her best to give him the assurance of her confidence in him.  She couldn’t give him confidence in himself, but hopefully just knowing that she believed in him and would help him if he wanted it, would be enough to carry him until he found confidence in himself.

She wasn’t sure it would be enough, though, given how long his battle against impossible odds had been, so she was unwilling to let him wander off on his own and potentially fall prey to the doubts again.  

Instead, when he finally pulled away from her, she insisted that he settle on her sofa until she finished her interrupted work.  Her motives weren’t completely selfless.  She’d felt a wrench when his hands slipped from her waist, and having him in the room gave her time to work out her feelings.

She, who had been friendly with everyone in her clan, then friendly with nearly everyone in the Inquisition, had never been in love.  Her easy, friendly manners had drawn more than one person to her, but the draw had never been mutual; she cared for people, but had never felt strongly for one person.  Eventually, she had decided it was for the best, and tried to find happiness as she could.

With Abelas it was different.  He was constantly in her thoughts, his smooth voice and golden eyes rising in her imagination even when she was otherwise occupied.  Worse, when she was with him she felt as if a burden had been lifted from her, and she could finally relax.  Ashara didn’t know what to do with these feelings, and wasn’t willing to risk her dignity by asking anyone else’s opinion.

It had been pleasant working while he was in her room; he didn’t speak, but didn’t seem impatient, either, simply sitting on the sofa until she finished.  She had completed her work in record time and moved to sit on the other side of the sofa from him, feeling nervous for the first time.

Fortunately, he was willing to speak of commonplace things, and there were no further emotional upheavals.  She wondered if he guessed at either of her motives for keeping him there, but before she could worry about it too much, she had noticed that he was drifting to sleep.  Instead of disturbing him, she had settled comfortably and quietly into her corner of the sofa and gone to sleep as well.

So it was something of a shock to find him gone this morning, and it was definitely a disappointment.  Reluctantly, she stood and began getting ready for the day; she knew her advisors would be waiting for her report on the rift she had just closed.  

With any luck, she would run into Abelas later and could invite him to have dinner with her.  She was well aware that she still needed to tell him about her experience with Morrigan’s eluvian, the shadowy shape of Flemeth seemed to hover over her shoulder every time she spoke to him.

She had avoided the topic because she dreaded what the knowledge would do to his shaken sense of purpose, and as she waited for the perfect moment that never came, it became harder and harder to broach the topic with him.  

Ugh.  And she had thought nothing was worse than Orlesian politics.

 


	10. Chapter 10

Abelas stopped the first servant he saw upon exiting Ashara’s quarters.  The slender elven woman was carrying a tray filled with empty plates and cups, and she nearly dropped it when he spoke to her.

“Excuse me.  Could you tell me where to find the Inquisitor’s elvhen companion?”

The woman could barely speak, and her face turned bright red as Abelas watched her in concern.  Finally, she managed to stammer out that she didn’t know where Solas was, but perhaps Master Tethras would.  She directed Abelas to the tavern, and then backed away from him, her mouth open, until she bumped into a chair, turned and fled.

Abelas frowned after her for a moment, then shook his head and followed her directions.  He found Master Tethras easily enough when he entered the tavern, and walked over to the table where the dwarf sat with a mug of ale and several notebooks spread out in front of him.

“Master Tethras, may I join you?”

Varric waved idly at the chair across from him.  “Sure.  What can I help you with?”  Picking up his mug, Varric saluted Abelas and drank.

“One of the servants said you could tell me where to find Ashara’s elvhen companion.  Solas?”

Varric choked on his ale.  

After several moments spent coughing and wheezing and wiping his streaming eyes, Varric hissed at Abelas.  “Shhh!!  Are you trying to kill me?”

“My apologies.  I did not realize the question was a dangerous one, Master Tethras.”

“After the thing with Hawke?  Oh, it’s dangerous alright.  If Red gets even a hint that I might know where Chuckles went and haven’t told her, she’ll shoot first and then torture and interrogate my corpse.  And the Seeker will help her.  What gave you the idea that I know where he is?  I don’t, I assure you.”

Abelas favored him with a blank look.  “I am afraid I do not understand.  The servant I asked first said she did not know where he was, but that I should ask you.  Perhaps she misspoke?  She did seem rather… ill.”

Varric was carefully blotting spilled ale from the pages of his notebook, but he grunted in a manner that prompted Abelas to continue.  “She could scarcely speak without stuttering, and even that barely above a whisper, and her face was a most unhealthy shade of red.”  He was slightly offended when Varric laughed.

“Oh, don’t worry, she’ll be fine.  Why are you looking for Chuckles, anyway?”

Abelas shrugged.  “I am looking for him because I had hoped he could point me to the correct place to do some work I have in mind.  He is a mage, and I need to craft a magical item.  Do you truly not know where he is?”

Varric sighed heavily.  “You are about as much fun as a dead nug.  And as informative.  Alright, if I answer you will you go away?  I’m trying to write a story, and I can just tell that you will suck all the creativity and interest out of it just by sheer proximity.  

“No one knows where Chuckles went, he disappeared after the battle with Corypheus.  The Inquisitor says he was very upset about the creepy orb being broken, but I don’t think that is any excuse for just abandoning her without a word.  Even Red’s agents haven’t been able to track him down.  And I want you to listen closely: I Do Not Know Where Solas Is.  Are we clear?”  Abelas nodded, and Varric relaxed slightly.

“Well then, as far as your project - which I can just tell will be so boring that it will kill me so please don’t tell me what it is - you want to speak with Dagna, in the Undercroft.  She’s got all sorts of tools, and plenty of.  She’ll also talk your ear off, but that’s your problem.  The Undercroft is directly across from the Inquisitor’s quarters - I’m sure you know where that is.  Now, off you go, I have work to do.”

Abelas stood, and offered Varric a half bow.  “Thank you for your assistance, Master Tethras.”  He left before Varric responded.  He stopped by his room to change into his armor and cloak.  He borrowed some tools from the blacksmith, then made his way, unnoticed, out Skyhold’s front gate.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Abelas spent the rest of the morning, and a good part of the afternoon scrambling around the snow covered peaks surrounding Skyhold until he found what he needed.  It took careful work to get a block of the brilliant blue ice that was large enough for him to work with.  

The unfamiliar tools and a rather precarious position made things more challenging, but he didn’t mind.  This was a courting gift, and he wouldn’t use magic to assist him with it’s creation.

When he had what he needed, he set a frost spell on the bag which held the block of ice, and made his way back to Skyhold.  

He didn’t know where Ashara would be at this time of day, and he didn’t want to encounter her until his work was complete, so he stretched all his stealth skills to enter Skyhold and make his way to the Undercroft.

Once there, he looked around carefully, seeing that Ashara wasn’t present, he stepped openly into the large cavern, and took a moment to just admire the space.  Before long, a very chipper dwarf interrupted his perusal.

“Hello.  I haven’t seen you here before.  I’d definitely remember that armor.  It has some sort of magic built into it, doesn’t it?  What is it?”

Abelas found himself smiling slightly at her enthusiasm, this must be the person Varric told him to speak to: Dagna.  “It is very old, and it is tied to my service to Mythal.  I am afraid I cannot divulge the specific process unless you become a Sentinal.”

Dagna grinned, and waved a hand.  “No chance of that, so you can keep your secrets.  Is there anything specific you need or did you just come to look?  It’s well worth a look down here, although the waterfall does make it fairly loud.”

Abelas bowed, and pulled a flat stone about the size of his two palms together, from the pouch at his waist.  He held it up.  “I need to infuse this with a frost spell, so that it remains cold.  Preferably, cold enough to maintain a freezing temperature about six inches above it’s surface.  Ideally, it will be self maintaining, but infrequent re-applications would also be acceptable.”

Dagna took the stone, and turned it over in her hands, examining it closely.  “Well, we could probably manage that.  I assume you can cast the necessary spells if I can find a way to maintain the effect?”   Abelas nodded.  “Alright then.  Anything else?”  

“I was hoping to speak to the smith, and get a sort of base for the stone.  Something simple, a band to hold it and some feet to support it?”

Dagna beamed.  “Oh, sure.  You’re in luck.  Harritt can make something like that, no problem.”  She called the smith over and the two began speaking rapidly, passing the stone he’d brought back and forth between them.

“Say, what do you need this for, anyway?”  Dagna asked him suddenly.

Abelas cleared his throat.  “It is a gift.  I need it to keep an ice sculpture frozen.  In fact, I would appreciate a place to work on that while you work on the stone.”

“Oh sure, make yourself at home.”  Dagna pointed him to an unoccupied workbench, and promptly lost interest in him as she turned back to Harritt and the stone.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

“Ok, ser, we’re ready for you to do the - wow!  Did you make that?”  

Abelas had been so focused on his work that he hadn’t heard the dwarf come up behind him.  He straightened, and stretched as he turned to face her.  She was staring in fascination at the sculpture he had created from the block of blue ice.  

Abelas reached out, and cast a gentle frost spell over it, to prevent it from melting; he had cast the spell so many times that he’d lost count while working, but the finished product was worth it.

At the tallest point, it was six inches high, the ice carved so carefully that the light shone through it, a miniature Skyhold faithfully reproduced in glittering blue ice from the heart of a glacier he’d found hidden behind one of the surrounding mountain peaks.  It was perfect down to the smallest detail, the time he had spent searching the mountains for the ice had been well spent as he took the opportunity to observe the keep from several different angles.

Dagna was craning her head around to look at the other sides of the sculpture, enraptured with the details.

“Wow, how did you do this?  Did you use magic?  Who’s it for?  Can you make me one?  You could make a fortune selling these things, you know.”

Abelas shook his head.  “No magic, aside from that needed to keep the tools cold enough that they didn’t melt the ice, and to keep the ice itself frozen.”  He gestured towards the delicate tools he had used.  “This is for Ashara.  I do not intend to make any more, my apologies.”

Dagna frowned at him.  “Ashara? Who’s… oh!  Oh!  It’s for the Inquisitor!”  She was bouncing on her toes now, wearing a wide grin.  “Oh, she’ll love it!  That’s just perfect for her.  Well, like I came over here to say, Harritt and I are ready for you to cast the ice magic to keep it all frozen.  Come see!”

Abelas followed her to the other end of the cavern.  Dagna was talking eagerly, explaining what they’d done to the stone and the metal work to make it do what he had asked, but he couldn’t quite follow her explanation.  Finally, she pointed to where she wanted him to cast his spell and explained exactly how to do it, and he simply followed her instructions.

The spell was easily cast, and when he held his hand above the stone, he felt a strong and steady chill emanating from it.  The field of the spell seemed to be exactly what he had asked for, and when he moved his fingers over the lyrium infused metalwork, the hum of magic told him that it was powering and maintaining his spell exactly how he hoped.  

He looked at Dagna and Harritt, and to their surprise, gave them a bright smile.  

“It is perfect!  Brilliantly done, I doubt even our own artificers could have succeeded as well as you have.  You have my deepest thanks.”

Harritt held out his hand, and Abelas shook it with only the barest of hesitations over the strange custom.  Dagna followed him back to the work bench, and watched while he installed the sculpture on the base, breathing an audible sigh of relief when the delicate ice was settled.  

Abelas bowed deeply to them both and left.  Behind him, he could hear Dagna speaking eagerly to Harritt, “For the Inquisitor!  She’s so lucky!”

Sliding into the shadows again, unwilling to let anyone else know about his attempted courtship until it was successfully begun, Abelas made his way back to Ashara’s quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you’re wondering, here’s why it’s blue! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blue_iceberg


	11. Chapter 11

When he reached Ashara’s quarters, they were empty, so Abelas placed the sculpture in the center of her desk and settled onto the sofa to wait.  As soon as he heard her footsteps coming up the stairs, he hid himself in the storeroom so he could watch her reaction.

She walked into the room with a tired sigh, but the sound turned to a gasp when she saw the gleaming ice sculpture sitting on her desk.  With a smile growing on her face, she walked over it, bending down to examine the details.  She reached out with one finger to touch it, but drew back at the feel of the ice spell that encased it.  There was only one person who would leave her a present, and she turned to leave the room and find him, only to see him step out of the storeroom.

For once, his hood was down.  His golden eyes were fixed on her expectantly, and she couldn’t stop herself from giving him an impulsive hug.  It wasn’t very satisfying with his armor on, and she drew back after a minute.

“Thank you for the present, Abelas.  Did you make it?”

He drew her over to the sofa, and pulled her down next to him.

“Yes, with some help from your artificer.  She is very talented.”

Ashara nodded her agreement, and turned her gaze back to the miniature keep sitting on her desk until Abelas spoke again, drawing her attention to him.

“It is a courting gift, Ashara.”  Her eyes widened and she started to smile.  “I do not know if your Dalish recall enough of the old ways… do you know of the asha irlath uth?”

She puzzled over the words for a moment.  “Asha irlath.... ‘The… last woman I love?’  I’ve not heard of anything like that before, no.”  

He nodded, “Very good, ma lath, yes.  It is a lifelong bond that forms between two people.  I do not know if your Dalish have lost the idea because you no longer have enough magic left to form the bond, or if you have simply lost the words for something that still occurs, but the magic that was a way of life in Arlathan still runs strongly in all the Sentinals. I believe we have that bond, and I would be honored if you will allow me to court you, and discover if you feel it as well.”

Ashara reached up and ran her fingers gently across his cheek, smiling even as her eyes filled with tears.

“There is nothing I would like more, Abelas.  I would happily spend my life at your side.”

He leaned forward and kissed her; she sighed and leaned into him, indulging in the kiss for several head-spinning minutes before she leaned back reluctantly.

“Abelas, there is… something I should have told you sooner.  I have been putting it off, because I suspect that it will hurt you; but I must tell you, especially now.”

He frowned slightly before his face became expressionless; he crossed his arms, raising one hand to his chin before nodding once.  Suddenly, she remembered how he had been when they first met him, and all her fears about what this information would mean to him returned.

“You know that Morrigan drank from the Well?  I did not think I would be able to understand what was there with no magic of my own.  A short time after we returned, Morrigan’s son entered his mother’s eluvian.  I followed Morrigan into the Fade to help her find the boy.  While we were there, we met Flemeth.”

She paused, and glanced at Abelas quickly.  He hadn’t moved or changed expression, and was simply watching her steadily, his golden eyes seeming to see into her and allow him to judge the truth of her story.

“The Dalish call Flemeth Asha’Belannar; she has lived many lifetimes, and there are stories of her helping heros in several legends throughout time.  It turned out that Flemeth is Morrigan’s mother.”  Ashara drew a deep breath and met Abelas’ eyes steadily.  “It also seems that she is, at least in part, Mythal.”

For a long moment, his expression didn’t change.  Then, he began to scowl.  “That is impossible.  Mythal was murdered, I saw her body.  This Flemeth lied to you.”

Ashara shook her head.  She wished she could touch him, but between his armor and his posture, there was no simple way of doing so, and she suspected that he would withdraw from anything too obvious.

“I don’t doubt what you saw, but I also believe Flemeth told the truth.  She said that a wisp of an ancient being came to her, and that wisp was what was left of Mythal.  She also was able to control Morrigan through the bond forged by her drinking of the vir’abelasan.”

Abelas shook his head, and pushed himself off the sofa to begin pacing.  “She is made one with a human?  To what end?”

“She said… Flemeth said that she sought to aid Mythal in gaining revenge.”

“If this is true… if it is true, why did she not return to us?  Why did she not return to her temple, her faithful servants?  She must have known we would do anything in our power to assist her!”

Ashara sighed.  “I did not think to ask why she had not returned to her temple, Abelas, I am sorry.  I asked why she hadn’t done more to aid our people, and Flemeth said only that what was could not be changed.  She became quite upset when I asked if she would help us now.  Flemeth is… she is very focused on gaining revenge for Mythal, and said that it would shake the heavens.”

Abelas snorted at this, and continued pacing, muttering to himself.  Ashara strained to hear his words, but he was speaking the ancient language, and she could only pick up a few of the words.  Finally, she interrupted him.

“Abelas.”  He ignored her and continued to pace.  Ashara sighed, and stood up, stepping into his path; this time he was ready for the move and simply swerved around her and continued his pacing.

Frowning now, she reached out and grabbed his arm; his momentum spun him around to face her, and he scowled at her.  When she scowled back, he seemed surprised.

“Abelas, this does not change your choices.”

“What?  It changes everything!”

“It doesn’t.  Think, Abelas.  If Flemeth lied, then Mythal is dead, which you already knew to be true.  If Flemeth told the truth, then some part of Mythal still lives, but even Flemeth admits that she is not the same as the goddess you knew.  Only a shadow of her former self resides within Flemeth, and that shadow is completely focused on gaining revenge for what happened to her.  

“Either way, your duty is the same.  Protect the knowledge in your keeping.  Protect the temple’s faithful Sentinals.  Work with the Dalish to further those goals.

“This does not change the choices you must make.  It does not change the importance of those choices.  For whatever reason and in whatever manner, the Mythal you knew is lost to this world.  Go forward.”

Abelas stared at her steadily for several minutes after she fell silent.  Finally, he nodded.  “You are correct.  Again.”

Reaching out, he set his hands on Ashara’s waist, and leaned down to kiss her gently.

“I will certainly need you on this path I must walk.  You see through to the heart of things so clearly; you keep me grounded.  Please walk this journey with me, ma lath; I cannot promise where it will lead, but it is enough that we would be together.”

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan.”  Ashara reached up to slide her arms around his neck, then tugged him down until she could kiss him again.  

When the kiss ended, she leaned up until her cheek rested against his.  With her lips near his ear, she whispered, “Whatever else we find on this journey, I know one thing.  Together, we will find joy.”

  
**_The End_ **


End file.
